love is a voice

Epilogue: The Day the Music Stopped Before the silence, I was the loudest child you’ve ever met. Noise was my kingdom. I didn’t just walk; I stomped. I didn’t just speak; I projected. I lived in a world of slamming doors, rattling toy boxes, and the constant, rhythmic chatter of a girl who had too many thoughts for one mouth to hold. My voice was a permanent fixture in the hallways of our estate, bouncing off the high ceilings like a bird trapped in a cathedral. "Get back here!" my nanny, Maria, cried. I could hear the heavy thud of her sensible shoes on the carpet behind me, her breathing labored and frantic. I didn’t stop. I loved the chase. I raced down the grand mahogany stairway, my socks sliding dangerously against the polished wood, my hands skimming the banister. Each step was a drumbeat, a loud thump-thump-thump that announced my rebellion to the entire house. "What seems to be the problem?" my father’s voice bellowed from the front door. It was a magnificent sound—rich, deep, and vibrating with a power that always made me feel small but safe. He was standing there in his bespoke charcoal suit, framed by the morning light, with my mum standing gracefully beside him. "She won’t sit still to put on a coat, sir," Maria panted, finally reaching the landing, her face flushed a deep pink. "But I’m not cold!" I sang, my voice hitting a high, melodic note. I laughed as I darted between my father’s long legs, using him as a human shield. I could smell his cologne—sandalwood and expensive cigars—and the crisp scent of the morning air coming through the open door. He reached down, his large hands catching me under the armpits, and hoisted me high into the air. I squealed, a sharp, joyous sound that echoed off the marble walls. "My angel," he murmured, his beard tickling my neck. "Yes, Daddy?" I giggled, looking down at him from my throne in the sky. "Put on your coat, or there will be no more pocket money for the whole of the month. I believe that is the law of this house." He tried to look stern, but I saw the corner of his mouth twitching. My mum interjected, stepping forward. She was the very definition of elegance, her gold jewelry catching the light and making a soft, musical *clink-clink* as she moved. "Now, isn’t that a bit harsh, dear? Let me have the coat. Okay, sweet Elfrida, come and wear your coat so we can go get some ice cream." "Ice cream!" I shouted, the word vibrating in my chest. The promise of a treat was the only thing that could ground me. I surrendered, standing perfectly still as Mum draped the heavy wool coat over my shoulders. She buttoned it up to my chin with practiced, gentle fingers. "I want the strawberry one! The one with the real fruit pieces and the sprinkles that pop in your mouth!" "We’ll see," my father laughed, a deep, booming sound I could feel in my very bones. "But only if you can stay quiet for at least five minutes in the car." "I can be quiet!" I protested loudly, which only made them laugh harder. We climbed into the car, a sanctuary of leather and luxury. The engine turned over with a smooth, comforting purr that signaled the start of our adventure. I sat in the back, kicking my legs against the seat—*thud, thud, thud*—and humming a bright, chaotic melody from the cartoons I’d watched that morning. My parents were talking in the front. I loved the sound of their conversation; it was a low, rhythmic murmur, like the sound of a distant river. I didn't need to know what they were saying; I just needed to hear the tone—the warmth of my mother’s laugh and the steady confidence of my father’s responses. "Fasten your seatbelt, Elfrida," my father said, catching my eye in the rearview mirror. He gave me a quick wink, a secret signal between us. "I’m fast! I’m the fastest!" I chirped, the plastic tongue of the buckle clicking into place with a satisfying snap. We pulled out of the massive iron gates, heading toward the city. The sun was brilliant, turning the world into a kaleidoscope of colors. Mum was smiling, her hands moving gracefully as she told a story. Her gold bracelets jingled softly, a tiny, metallic orchestra accompanying her words. Everything was bright, loud, and perfect. I leaned forward, pressing my face between the two front seats. "I want the sprinkles that pop in your—" The word never finished. It was swallowed by a nightmare. A horn shrieked—a long, violent, agonizing blast of brass that seemed to tear the very air apart. I heard the frantic screech of tires against the asphalt as my father tried to steer us away. Mum let out a sharp, jagged cry of terror. Then, the world turned inside out. There was a roar like a mountain collapsing—the sickening sound of metal being crushed like paper. Glass shattered, sounding like a million diamonds hitting a stone floor. I felt the car spin, a violent force throwing me against the door. My head hit the window with a dull *c***k*, followed by a final, bone-deep thud that shook the earth. When the movement stopped, the world didn't go silent—I did. I blinked through a haze of acrid smoke. I could hear the hiss of the leaking radiator. I heard the distant, panicked wail of a siren beginning to rise. I heard the frantic shouting of people running toward the wreck. "Is anyone alive?" a man’s voice screamed. The sound was sharp, vibrating clearly in my ears. I looked at my mother. Her head was tilted at an impossible angle, her beautiful hair spilling over her face. I heard my father’s heavy, wet gasps for air as he reached for her—a low, broken moan of agony that I can still hear in my nightmares. I opened my mouth to scream. I wanted to tell him I was scared, that we needed to help Mum. I took a deep breath and pushed with everything I had. But nothing came out. No cry. No whimper. Not even a breathy "Daddy." I pushed again, my throat constricting until it felt like it would snap. I could hear my own heart hammering against my ribs—thump-thump, thump-thump—but the air left my lips in a hollow, terrifying ghost of a sigh. I sat there in the wreckage as the world grew louder. I heard the paramedics shouting and the grinding of metal as they worked to get us out. The world was a symphony of chaos, but I was no longer a part of the orchestra. The loudest child in the world was still there, listening to every breaking heart and every falling tear, but she had become a ghost in her own body. I could hear the world, but the world would never hear me again.